And I Think He Loves Me
by Dizzle
Summary: [Does He Love You Sequel]'It seemed like it had been weeks since they'd spoken. In reality, forty six days had passed, not that she was keeping count, or anything.' [Dasey...finally] Please R&R!


**I know that those of you who read _Does He Love You?_ didn't necessarily care for the ending. Well, the angst-loving side of me really enjoyed writing the anti-Dasey-ness. But, luckily the Dasey shipping portion decided that the ending I gave simply just won't do.**

**For those of you who haven't read _Does He Love You_, I urge you READ IT FIRST, PLEASE! While the bit of Dasey fluff will probably make you happy, it really won't make much sense. So, please, save yourself the grief and read it. It's only two chapters, like 13,500 words. Not that bad. Just do it, okay? I promise this will be here when you get back.  
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**Anyway, with out further adieu, now that you've read the prequel, I present to you the way that Dasey shipping portion of me thought the conclusion should go. Enjoy this, more than the other, I hope. Please review and let me know what you thought!**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this story, with the exception of the idea and Mia. And Derek's daughter. All the information about Steve Burns came from the Internet Movie Database._**  
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It had been raining for nearly the past forty-eight hours, non-stop. The news crew said it was the highest amount of rainfall for the month of March in over twenty years. 

_Honestly, I thought California was supposed to have some of the most beautiful weather in the States._

Casey stared glumly out the window as the thought crossed her mind. She didn't mind the fact that it rained over the weekend. She hadn't wanted to go out anyway and this just gave her an excuse not to. But she sincerely hoped it would stop by the next morning. She hated commuting to work in bad weather.

A timer went off and she moved away from the window, to the kitchen. The smell of the rotisserie chicken filled her apartment and made her Casey's stomach growl. She couldn't help it; she hadn't eaten all day. It was a bad habit, not eating on the weekends. She ate well enough during the week, though, didn't she?

Casey pulled the plastic dish from her microwave, checking the box that the TV dinner came in to see how long she was supposed to let it stand. Ignoring the suggested amount of time, she got out some silverware and plopped down on the couch. Curiously, she glances at her cell phone and notices for about the hundredth time that weekend how completely pathetic she is. Not only does she not have any missed calls or text messages, but she is looking for a call or message from a certain person, whom she hasn't spoken to in weeks.

Mindlessly she flipped through the channels, subconsciously remembering the fateful conversation she had with said person. Considering she was used to talking to him everyday, it seemed like it had been years since they'd spoken. In reality, forty-six days had passed – not that she was keeping count, or anything. He tried calling the first couple of days, but when she didn't answer or return his messages, she figured that he gave up. It wasn't how she remembered him to be. He wasn't normally defeated this easily. He persisted until he got what he wanted; he _always_ got what he wanted.

A loud crash broke her out of her thoughts and she stared at the television in shock. Matt Damon's striking features appeared on screen minutes later and title of the movie that was showing popped into her head. She remembered seeing it in theaters on a double date with her college roommate. It was one of those _Bourne_ movies. She couldn't tell exactly which one; honestly, she was much too concentrated on Mr. Damon's superb body and finely chiseled cheekbones to pay attention to the plot of the movie, much less see either of the other two he had produced. Still, seated between her roommate's boyfriend and her own boyfriend, she would've had hard time following the story even if Matt Damon hadn't been on screen.

She shoved her microwave-cooked food in her mouth as she intently stared at the television screen. God, he was a good-looking man. She did her best to give her full attention to the story line and actually found it rather interesting, even though she had come in sometime in the middle and had absolutely no idea what was going on. Casey had become so engrossed in the movie that she had stopped eating and her empty fork was hanging loosely out of her mouth. She was so distracted, in fact, that she jumped when there was a loud knock on her door.

Grumbling, she hit the mute button and cursed her neighbor, Mrs. Walters. Nearly every time she watched TV after eight o'clock, the eighty-year-old woman would come over and tell Casey she was being too loud. She was nothing more than one of those old, senile cat ladies you hear stories about. She never thought she'd have the "pleasure" of actually meeting one. She dropped her dirty dishes off on the kitchen counter and went to answer the door. The woman really couldn't help it when her cup of ice water slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor as her eyes met the person on the other side.

He was standing in her door, soaking wet and shivering. His light auburn hair was turned to a shade of dark brown because of the rain and clung to his face in several places. His nice coat was completely ruined, a result of the rain as well, and not doing its job in keeping him warm at all. A worried look was plastered on his handsome face as the tiny bit of light from inside Casey apartment illuminated it.

Eventually, he shoved past her and shook his head, tiny droplets of water flying in all directions. "Damn, it's colder than fucking Antarctica out there. I thought California was sunny and beautiful."

Casey was practically frozen in place, a hand on the doorknob and the other still framing the cup she had been holding. "Does Mia know you're here?" It was the only question she could muster, ironically enough, even though hundreds of others were running through her head. She turned around slowly to face him, shutting the door as she did so.

Derek glanced around the room, carefully shrugging his soaked jacket from his shoulders. "Well, she knows I'm in California, if that's what you mean." He replied.

"Great, more business trips, I see." She stalked past him angrily, forcing herself not to meet his eyes. In the kitchen, she grabbed a dishtowel and walked back to the entryway, tossing it on the floor to clean up the mess she'd made of her water.

"Not exactly." He said it so soft that Casey wasn't sure she'd actually heard it. Instead of reacting, she simply ignored the comment that she didn't believe he had said. He kneeled next to her and helped put some ice cubes back into the cup.

Still not making eye contact, she picked up the towel and cup and went back into the kitchen. "You're going to ruin my carpet." She said finally when she came back out, shooting an accusatory glare at his wardrobe.

Derek's eyes followed hers and he frowned. "You have a suggestion?"

With a sigh, she spun on her heel and headed towards her bedroom. Moments later, she returned a wad of Derek's old clothes in her hand. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to throw them out after they had ended things; you never knew when you'd need some guy's clothes. As soon as she exited the room, his strong arms engulfed her and pulled her body against his wet one. Casey did her best to fight the feelings rising up within her. It felt so good to be held like this again. It was so right, the way they just meshed together. She missed his touch, his smell, his voice, his warmth. She missed everything about him.

Overwhelmed and defeated, she dropped the clean clothes on the floor and returned his embrace. It only took a matter of seconds before their lips met and both of their hands were roaming.

"You're going to catch a cold." Casey managed to gasp out in between kisses. Her hands were toying with the hem of his t-shirt. She could feel him smirk against her.

"Oh, silly Casey. Don't you know that's only a myth?" He replied breathily against her ear, trailing hot kisses down her neck and jaw line.

"No use taking any chances, though." The argument was enough for him and he shivered as the wet cloth was removed from his body. He pushed his hips against hers, causing her to have a sharp intake of breath. It also made her realize something – his lower half was still wet. "I don't think that's all." She whispered seductively as her hands slid down his smooth chest and to the waistband of his jeans.

"Well, well, someone seems a bit eager." Unable to suppress his grin, he helped her with his pants, and then resumed his administrations to her neck. After a few moments of standing half nude and cold, he pulled back. "This isn't completely fair." He stated reprovingly.

Casey followed his eyes to her body, which was still fully clad in the shorts and t-shirt she'd been wearing all day.

Something about the situation brought her to her senses and she stepped back, out of his arms. She bent down to retrieve his wet clothes, in turn placing the clean ones she had discarded in his grasp, all the while avoiding the hurt and questioning look he was giving her. Once she had his sopping garments, she pushed herself past him to her laundry room. After she had thrown them into the drier, she leaned on the appliance for support.

She told him they had to stop. Mia was too suspicious. No, she wasn't suspicious; she flat out _knew_ that Derek was cheating on her. And yet, here he was. And she was falling for the same charms that had won her over so many years ago. All he'd had to do was touch her and she was under his spell. She softly cursed herself for having such a lack of control over her emotions. When had she become so weak and dismal when it came to voicing her thoughts, especially when it came to Derek? She was like some lovesick teenager. But not anymore, damn it. She was going to march back out there – hopefully, he would be dressed now, and she wouldn't become distracted – and give Derek Venturi a piece of her mind.

No sooner had she thought that than a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist from behind. She immediately tensed up, something that did not go unnoticed by Derek.

"What are you doing here, Derek?" She didn't turn her body to face him or even bother to straighten up. However, she didn't make him to let go of her, either. It felt all too good to have him this close to her.

"I missed you." He replied honestly, planting tender kisses from her hairline and down her neck to her shoulder. He moved the collar of her shirt slightly to give himself more skin to touch his lips to.

It took all of her willpower to pull herself away from his touch. Still, she didn't move out of his embrace. "Don't you remember what I told you? We can't do this any more."

"I remember." He started, forcing her to turn and face him, still keeping his arms around her. Thank goodness he'd put on those extra clothes before he came in. "You told me that I wouldn't lose you."

"I meant lose me as a friend, you know that."

"That's not what it sounded like." He once again bent his head to her neck and Casey couldn't help it when her head tilted to the opposite side, allowing him more area.

She was flustered, and not only because of the attention he was paying her. But also, why was he so calm right now? She was struggling to keep her voice steady and soft. But Derek, of course, seemed to be having no difficulty what so ever.

"Well, that's how I meant it." She argued, not even convincing herself.

Derek ignored the comment. "I also remember what else you told me, Case; how, as long as I was with her, you wouldn't be with me."

"Right." Casey said defiantly, holding on to the one last bit of dignity she could muster. "And I can't. She's my friend, Derek. I thought you understood that there was no changing my mind."

"Who said anything about changing your mind?"

Her eyes, which she wasn't aware were closed, flew open and she looked at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "W-what?" There was no indication that he was joking with her, but then again, Derek had always been a fabulous liar.

Sensing her dilemma, he smiled slightly, sadly, and bowed his head, unable to look at her. "I know it wasn't the right thing to do. And it was completely irresponsible of me. I feel terrible about it."

"What are you talking about?" She could feel her pulse begin to speed up uncontrollably in anticipation of what she thought he would say – no, of what she hoped he would say; she'd only been hoping for eight years, now.

He locked eyes with her, finally, and swallowed hard. "I-…" She could tell this was hard for him to say, and she could understand why. But, come on, damn it! _Eight years_ of waiting, why did he have to draw it out like this?

"You what?" Casey didn't even bother to hide the excitement in her voice, but it was overlooked by Derek.

"I couldn't take it, Case. I was going crazy not talking to you. My days all started out in this funk because I knew that as much as I wanted to call you, you wouldn't answer. I knew you didn't want me anymore and Mia was the reason. So, I weighed my options. I know I'm wrong. And I know that it was a stupid thing, leaving her with the baby and leaving my job and–"

By then he was just rambling and Casey was tired of listening. So, she shut him up by pressing her lips firmly on his. It was the same type of kiss they'd shared so many years ago, when he'd come to her apartment in Toronto to try and persuade her not to move to California. And just like then, their touches became urgent. But this time, they did not wind up on the floor, although they didn't quite make it to her bedroom, either. Instead, they found themselves on the sofa in Casey's living room. Somehow, though, it was more fitting this way. It was their couch, after all; where everything had started with them.

-:-

Hours later, they laid together on the tainted piece of furniture. Derek had his head on Casey's chest and she was running her fingers through his hair in a calming motion, staring at her ceiling. From the sound of his rhythmic breathing and steady rise and fall of his chest, Casey knew he was still in the midst a deep slumber. She didn't want to wake him, but at the same time, there were so many questions burning in her mind that she felt like she deserved answers to. For one, he hadn't really flat out said that he and Mia were over. And for another thing, why had it taken him so long to actually tell her? Why couldn't he have just confessed when he showed up, unexpected, on her porch, instead of simply barging in and making himself at home?

Deciding it would be best not to press the issue right this moment and let Derek have his sleep, she reached carefully for the remote and pressed a button to turn the television on. She flipped channels a few times before stopping to look down at the man sleeping at her breast. He'd always been good-looking, honestly. But never in all the time they'd slept together had Casey ever been so attracted to him as she was at that very moment.

He was right. It was wrong on him to leave his wife and daughter for another woman. It was cowardly, even, and foolish, rash, ignorant…she could go on. For some reason, though, she couldn't help but excuse his behavior for the simple fact that he'd done it for her. She'd never questioned his obvious affection for her; the only thing she wondered about was who he actually loved – her or Mia? Now she had a just, for sure answer. He was willing to leave his life, as reckless and spineless as it was, for _her_. Of course she would look past that.

"I hate this guy."

Surprised to hear his voice, she looked down at him again, then at the TV, where his attention was directed. "Why?"

"I miss Steve." Derek said groggily. When Casey was flipping channels, she unintentionally stopped on Nickelodeon to observe him.

"I had no idea you watched _Blue's Clues_." She replied, smirking a little.

He yawned and rolled over, facing away from her and towards the back cushions of the sofa. "I don't, anymore. Marti used to make me watch it with her, though." Her smirk turned into a smile as she thought of his relationship with her little stepsister. He would do just about anything for her, especially when she was younger. "Besides, Steve isn't on it anymore, why would I want to watch it?" he added as an after thought.

"Didn't he commit suicide or something?"

At this Derek turned back to her, his eyes wide open. "What? No!" He was sitting up, now.

"That's what I heard or read some where."

Derek shook his head furiously. "No way, he's alive and well. Not on the show, obviously. But he makes music now. He recorded an incredible album with The Flaming Lips."

Casey held her hands up in defense. "I'm sorry I don't keep up with my Steve Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is trivia. Paris and Britney consume me."

"Burns." He said, scoffing. She gave him a questioning look. "His last name is Burns. And the fact that _Paris_ and _Britney_ 'consume' you…I'm not even going to comment on that." With a roll of his eyes, he laid back down, snuggling himself against her body.

She continued to watch him admiringly for a few moments. Eventually, she summoned up all of her courage and opened her mouth to ask him one of the questions that had been plaguing her mind. She didn't get a chance, however, as he suddenly sat up and captured her lips with his. It was a slow, tender kiss, not at all resembling the ones they had shared hours before.

"I love you." He whispered, touching their foreheads lightly. "I love you so much, Casey MacDonald. You have no idea." Then he was back in his previous position, plastered tightly against her side. Casey's hand found his head and once again began to run her fingers through his messy mop of hair. After a declaration like that, perhaps all her questions could wait until later.

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**Well?! Was that better, Dasey fans? I certainly hope so. Thus concludes my Casey-Derek-Mia saga. Do let me know what you thought about _this_ ending, please.**

** - Danielle **


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